Constellation of the Heart
by Stormkpr
Summary: Post S5. FitzSimmons are finally getting a proper wedding reception. But when a powerful adversary interrupts, they - along with the rest of the team - are in for a shock. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Constellation of the Heart**

 **Author's Notes:** This story takes place post-Season 5, after FrozenFitz has been retrieved – and he and Simmons have had some time to take a breath and be alone together.

You could view this also as a sequel to my fic "Hardened by Pressure", but you don't need to have read it in order to read this one. Also, I made one major change from "Hardened by Pressure" regarding Coulson's status – so if you _did_ read that story, I apologize for the retcon!

 **Warning:** In Chapter Two, characters will experience verbal abuse, implied threats of sexual assault, and lewd and homophobic comments.

* * *

" _In a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me." –Madeline Miller in her novel "Circe"_

 **Chapter One:** The Kilt

"Well, I've never seen Fitz's kneecaps before. Until today," Daisy muttered quietly.

Yo-Yo realized she had been biting her lip to keep from chuckling at the sight of Fitz in a kilt, so she took the pressure off to reply to Daisy. "I love him, but I can't help but think that men look ridiculous in a skirt. And yes, I know a kilt is not a skirt." She then turned her head and glanced at Daisy, knowing that after what 'The Doctor' had done to Daisy, her own reference to 'loving' Fitz must have dropped like a lead balloon. "Sorry. I know you don't love him – or even like him very much right now."

Daisy took a breath. "No – I mean, we're okay. I had a talk with him and Simmons. I'm still angry but I'm – well, I'm trying."

Yo-Yo placed a hand – a mechanical hand attached and recalibrated by Fitz – on Daisy's back. "That's all we can do. We lived through a war. Or a series of battles that felt like an endless war." She sighed. "Maybe all we can do is forgive and forget."

Daisy's reply was flat but honest, "Like I said. I'm trying."

Daisy and Yo-Yo were with the rest of their team at a quaint and beautiful inn in Perthshire. FitzSimmons had recently spent several days there to rest and recover. They had decided that instead of getting married again - although for Fitz it would have been the first time – they would have a reception once Coulson and May returned. Fitz had also decided to view the 16 days that he missed as if he were experiencing memory loss. It was easier than dwelling on the bizarre facts of what had truly happened.

The team had rented out the entire inn. Along with FitzSimmons, Daisy, and Yo-Yo were Mack, Deke, Davis, and Piper. Fitz and Jemma were thrilled that Coulson and May were also able to attend since returning from their vacation and Coulson's recovery. The anthropologist Margaret Mead had once said 'Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.' This small team, having done more than their share, was determined to enjoy a few days of rest.

The inn provided an idyllic setting. Although the weather tended towards rain and clouds, the inn itself oozed warmth and comfort. The color scheme was ripe with rich browns and reds, a cozy fireplace crackled in the background, classic paintings adorned the walls, and musty books sat on numerous bookshelves. The innkeeper was determined to stuff the team with tea, cookies, and scones every time they even glanced his way. And when the rain ceased, the inn's garden boasted magnificent views of an array of colorful flowers.

Of course, the decorations that FitzSimmons had selected for their reception didn't quite harmonize with the inn. The main room – the living room – now found a makeshift TARDIS in one corner, and monkeys were everywhere. Monkey streamers, monkey balloons, and even a few sock monkeys adorned the room. There were far more monkey-themed items than flowers. Daisy didn't know where FitzSimmons had found some of them, or how they had convinced the innkeeper to allow this redecoration. He must have taken to FitzSimmons quite a bit during their earlier visit.

* * *

Moments earlier, FitzSimmons were inside their room on the second floor, preparing to descend the main staircase and join the waiting team in the living room. The room, with its generous bed, fireplace, and claw-foot tub inside the bathroom had come to feel like a home of sorts, given the recent time they had spent here.

"I haven't see you wear a kilt in so long," Jemma murmured, brushing a piece of lint off of Fitz's jacket.

"Can't remember the last time I wore one myself," Fitz mused. "It would have been long before we became a couple." He shook his head. "Feels like a lifetime ago." He opened his mouth, considering whether or not to say more, but then closed it. He and Jemma had done plenty of reflecting right inside this very inn, talking through the harrowing events of the past few years. Today, however, Fitz felt like focusing on the future and he sensed Jemma did as well.

"Well, I think it looks smashing on you! Maybe someday they will catch on outside of Scotland," she smiled. Her eyes sparkled, and Fitz's heart twisted just looking at them. She then ran her fingers along the kilt's material. "After the reception, I look forward to lifting this kilt up and doing something quite naughty with what's underneath."

"How can it be naughty?" Fitz whispered in her ear. "We're married now." Reluctantly, he took a step back. "But let's stop this talk, wife - lest it make us late to the reception."

Jemma sighed, "You're right." She then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was vintage, carved in what appeared to be cherry oak, replete with Roman numerals and a pendulum. "I think it's time to head downstairs and join the others."

Fitz nodded and reached for her hand. He placed a kiss on it, and they left the room.

* * *

Daisy observed the pair as they descended the grand staircase hand in hand. Fitz wore a kilt along with a crisp jacket and bowtie. Jemma opted for a simple gown in light blue; it was floor-length, and the neckline was sweetheart style. Daisy noticed that Jemma wore a necklace she hadn't seen before, and Fitz now wore a wedding ring. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, FitzSimmons looked at each other, smiled shyly, and Jemma had said, "Well, let's eat!" Music began to play and people headed for the food.

The group milled about the living room, eating and talking. Daisy and Yo-Yo had shared a few moments to quietly remark on Fitz's attire. The innkeeper dashed in and out, refilling drinks and bringing an endless array of food out of the oven. If he thought that this family appeared motley and mismatched, he didn't remark upon it.

At one point, the conversation hit a lull. Coulson cleared his voice and stood up. "Should we say a few words?" the affable leader asked. He then smiled. "It somehow feels like the wedding was just yesterday but also years ago."

Jemma nodded and again reached for her husband's hand. She squeezed it. "It feels that way to me too," she said softly.

Fitz shook his head and smiled. "I wish I could say the same!"

Daisy observed Fitz in that moment. His brow was uncreased, his eyes bright, his shoulders relaxed, and he had just cracked a joke. Did skipping those 16 horrible days that the other Fitz had lived make this Fitz so much more relaxed? No, Daisy decided – it must have been the vacation FitzSimmons had just had here. Daisy tugged at her dress; its design cut just a bit too much into her waist. The concept of vacation was foreign to her. `At least I'm able to look at him now,' she said to herself. Although another part of herself countered that she didn't really want to.

Fitz, his gaze now turned towards Mack, continued, "Mack, I'm glad you filmed it."

"I filmed it for Yo-Yo," Mack said soberly. "But I'm glad it ended up helping you."

"I'm glad I'm able to make the reception since I couldn't be at the wedding!" Yo-Yo chimed in. She wore a pantsuit and her arms were covered.

Yo-Yo happened to be sitting next to Piper. Jemma's eyes darted around the room. Yo-Yo had missed the wedding because she'd been recovering from a horrific injury. Piper had missed the wedding because she had been in lockup. So much trauma, so many mistakes, so much pain. And Fitz – well…Jemma cut off that line of thought. She agreed with her husband; better to view it as if Fitz suffered memory loss and better to think towards the future. Of course, Jemma silently added as her eyes fell upon Daisy, some memories would not be forgotten.

"I think we should at least do a toast," May said, standing up to join her partner, returning the conversation to Coulson's original question. She patted his back, and the rest of the team followed her lead and rose to their feet.

The innkeeper must have heard the word 'toast' because he appeared instantly with a tray of champagne glasses, and began to pass them around. "You are the best, Marcas," Fitz murmured to the innkeeper. "If I didn't love my work so much, I'd stay here forever."

Blushing, Marcas left the room as soon as everyone had a champagne glass in hand.

Coulson again cleared his throat and lifted his glass. "I don't want to just repeat what I said at the wedding. But I do want –"

At that moment, the room was suddenly filled with a crushing, unbearable noise. The sound tearing through his eardrums, Coulson dropped his glass and fell to the floor.

* * *

Fitz groggily rubbed his neck and ran his tongue around the insides of his mouth. The aftertaste of the strong tea and sweet scone he'd last eaten at the inn lingered, and when he sniffed, he could smell the champagne that he'd spilt on his jacket. He again tried to open his eyes.

"Easy now, Turbo," he heard Mack's deep voice. "Take your time."

Fitz swallowed and tried to ask a question. It took a few seconds for the words to travel from his brain and out his mouth. "Where are we?" he asked. His eyelids still felt heavy, and he couldn't quite open them.

"We're in a cell with Coulson, Davis, and Deke," Mack said. "Coulson's still out. Davis and Deke are awake."

"Where's Jemma?" Fitz croaked the words out.

"I don't know, Turbo. When I woke up, I was in here with the four of you. We haven't seen Simmons, or Yo-Yo, or Daisy, May, or Piper."

Mack's words impacted Fitz almost as much as the weapon had. He sensed someone taking a few steps towards him and he felt a hand on his arm. Deke. "Don't rush it," Deke said quietly. "It takes some time for that whatever they hit us with to wear off."

Fitz wasn't sure what surprised him more: the gentleness of Deke's tone or the fact that he gravitated towards it. He grasped at Deke, and Deke helped him sit up. Fitz slowly managed to open his eyes; they felt dry and tired. The starkness of what he did see contrasted with the beauty of the inn they had been inside, with the softness of Jemma by his side. Instead now it was as Mack said: Fitz was sitting inside a mostly bare cell with his four male teammates. It was cold. The cell was small; if each man stood up, he'd only be able to take a few steps without colliding into a teammate. At least their arms and legs were unshackled.

"Who captured us? And how?" Fitz asked. Deke kept his hand on Fitz's arm.

"No idea. Our captors have not shown themselves," Mack stated.

The men then discussed the weapon which had disabled them. All they recalled was a piercing noise, and losing consciousness almost immediately. No one remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary. The noise had begun and overtaken them within a second or two, according to their best estimate.

"Coulson once said there's a way out of every cell," Fitz said. "Have you tried – "

"Yeah," Mack said. His voice remained low, quiet, and dejected. "As soon as I could stand up, I searched every inch of this cell."

Fitz turned his head towards what apparently was the entrance to the cell. "An airlock?" he asked.

"Looks like it," Deke observed. There were two doors, like an airlock. Nothing was visible beyond the airlock. "So apparently our captors can pass stuff to us – or pull us out one by one, if they ever show themselves."

"Were Jemma and the others in here before, I wonder?" Fitz speculated, his voice jittery. "Were they in here and our captors took them out?"

"Maybe, but there's no sign of it."

Davis mused, "That was one fast-acting weapon. Daisy and Yo-Yo didn't have time to use their powers; none of us had time to react."

"So we got a hundred enemies, in this timeline alone," Mack quipped. "We just don't know who's powerful enough right now to have developed this."

Fitz brought his hands to his temples and rubbed them. The physical grogginess and discomfort brought on by the weapon were starting to ebb, but the mental agony was just beginning, he knew. Once again, he had been torn away from Jemma. Once again, he had no idea where she was. Fitz suddenly let out a laugh.

"Fitz?" Mack asked.

"You'd think I'd be bloody well used to it by now!" Fitz said, raising both of his hands and then slapping them down against his thighs. "Not knowing where she is, being separated from her. You'd think I'd know how to handle it by now. But I don't!" He forced a breath through his lungs but still felt filled with frustration. "Despite all the times it's happened, I'm not any better at handling being apart from her than I was when the first monolith took her!"

"Take it easy, Turbo," Mack said firmly, as Deke again placed his hand on Fitz's arm. "We'll figure this out; we always do. We always find a way out. And for all we know, Daisy and the others already have and are on their way here now."

Fitz clenched his fists. He wanted to curse the universe again, he wanted to pound his fists against a slab of stone again. This was supposed to be his wedding reception. He was supposed to be eating and drinking inside the cozy inn with his family – with the people who still had your back despite betrayals and mistakes. He was supposed to be retiring to the master bedroom with Jemma, spending hours under the covers with her, loving her in every sense of the word. He thought of the small freckle on Jemma's chest. He wanted to be nuzzling it right now. He wanted her to be doing exactly what she had proposed inside their room before the reception, lifting his kilt up. The garment had felt sexy not too long ago, but now he looked down at his knobby knees and felt exposed and strange wearing the kilt. All he could do now was sit on the floor of the cold cell and hope that Jemma was somehow safe.

Coulson stirred at last, and the team tended to him and began to catch him up to speed. As they spoke with their leader, Fitz's mind began to clear and he noticed a sound in the background. It was subtle and slight, and the type of thing only an expert engineer would pick up. To untrained ears, it was simply white noise or perhaps an air conditioner or some sort of engine humming in the background.

"What is it?" Coulson asked Fitz.

"Listen to that. Only one type of engine makes that particular noise," Fitz breathed. "We're in space."

"In space?" Mack echoed.

"In space. We're on a starship."

 **TO BE CONTINUED**

 **Author's Note:** I realize that I didn't explain how Coulson made a full recovery, and I can only ask readers to just go with it. (I hope the official SHIELD writers come up with a way for him to be okay in Season 6!)

Also, reviews and feedback are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note:_ Please take note of the warnings I gave in Chapter 1.

 **Chapter Two: The Captors**

Fitz and the others sat inside the cell, stunned at the realization.

"You're certain we're in space?" Coulson asked Fitz.

"Positive," Fitz confirmed, with a definitive nod.

Deke listened to his grandfather explain the specifics of the noise the engines were making and how he knew that it had to indicate that they were on a starship. Deke felt chagrined that he hadn't recognized this, but he silently reminded himself that although he had spent most of his life in space, he was no engineer like Fitz. Deke had hardly even noticed the noise.

"So someone knocked us out with a new weapon, split our team by gender, and shot us into space," Coulson summarized. "Who the hell has us, and why?"

At that moment, the team heard the swish of doors sliding apart, followed by the sound of boots on the ground. Davis and Deke had been sitting down, but they scrambled to their feet so as to meet their captors standing up.

Three men entered the area outside of the cell's airlock. Although the Watchdogs didn't wear uniforms, the three were instantly recognizable as members of the group. They wore dark, pseudo-military clothing topped off with combat vests. Two of them wore black hats. They looked somewhat unkempt; their clothing wrinkled, their facial hair not well-maintained. Fitz even silently mused that the particularly hateful expressions on their faces indicated that they were Watchdogs.

"Look what we have here," the Watchdog in the middle began. "A bunch of inhuman-lovers. Repulsive."

"Yeah," another Watchdog piped up. "Literally 'inhuman-lovers' in some cases. We got that one," he gestured at Mack, "who actually is sleeping with an inhuman, and that other one," he gestured at Coulson, "who thinks he's the surrogate father of another one."

"She's hot though," the first Watchdog said. "Maybe he's banging his daughter. I would."

The third Watchdog had a confused expression on his face and pointed at Fitz. "And we have a sissy wearing a skirt."

"It's called a kilt, you fucking idiots, and it's very masculine!" Deke shot back. He had not been as well-trained as the others; the SHIELD agents knew to control themselves and not take the bait. Two of the Watchdogs laughed at Deke's outburst.

"What do you want with us?" Coulson asked, his arms crossed and his expression neutral.

"Oh, we're taking you on a little trip. A little trip somewhere special, where you'll help us."

"Good luck with that," Coulson replied. Again he gave away nothing with either his expression or mannerisms. "We're not going to help you."

The Watchdog grinned. "You will when you're faced with the alternative. We know you won't let us hurt the lovely ladies we captured along with you. We've got all of them with us. In addition to the two disgusting inhumans, we have your wife," he said looking at Fitz, "and your girlfriend," he said at Coulson. "And the other one, the dykey looking one. We have, oh, all sorts of ideas of what we can do with them. All sorts of fun ideas," he repeated, taking a moment to lick his lips. It was truly a stomach-turning gesture. "We have dozens of men on this ship too, each one who will want a turn. We'll make the five of you watch the whole thing. So yeah, you'll help us when we get to our destination. I have no doubt of that."

During the man's monologue, Deke had looked ready to erupt, but Mack had shot Deke a subtle but clear look. Better to let your enemy ramble on. Let him talk; he might give away important information underneath his loathsome words. And you can't let your enemy know that they got under your skin.

"So we are on a ship then," Coulson stated.

The Watchdog shrugged. "Yeah. You'd find that out soon enough when we reach our destination."

"And what exactly is our destination?"

The Watchdog laughed. "I'm not gonna tell you that. But here," he turned towards one of the others. "We brought you some gifts."

The Watchdog used the airlock's two doors to place two buckets inside the men's cell. One was empty and the other filled with water. The agents had made as if to rush the doors, but the airlock system rendered escape impossible - as it was easy for the Watchdogs to always keep one door secured.

"The water's a little slimy but you'll drink it when you're thirsty enough," said the Watchdog who had done most of the talking. "No food though. Hopefully the scones you got from our friend Marcas will keep you tided over for a while. We don't need your brains just yet, so who cares if you're hungry."

"Your friend?" Fitz echoed. "Is Marcas one of you?" If so, he decided, it was just one more betrayal Fitz had lived through.

"No. But we got a lot of info out of him. People will do almost anything when you threaten their loved ones." He clasped his hands together and grinned again. "Well! That's it for now. Just remember that you will help us with our plans when we need it. We've got nothing against torturing inhumans – and the filthy humans who defend them. And there's something especially fun about….doing all sorts of things with beautiful women. It kind of makes me hope that you don't agree to help us at first."

With that, the three Watchdogs left the area, and the space outside their cell was quiet once again except for persistent hum of the ship's engines.

"I knew the price that innkeeper quoted us to rent the entire place was too low," Coulson muttered.

"Sir," Mack frowned, "a joke at a time like this? Did you hear what he just threatened?"

Coulson's words were steady. "Mack, I'm as angry as you are. But what they are saying are just empty words. If they try to lay a finger on May, she'll kill them. May, Daisy, and all the others are strong and resourceful, and they've beaten back far worse enemies over and over again."

"Except for the fact that these ones have a weapon that knocks us unconscious in seconds!" Fitz exclaimed. "I feel sick." He touched a hand to his forehead, which was damp despite the cold temperature in the cell.

"That's exactly what they want us to feel," Coulson said, stepping towards Fitz and placing a hand on his shoulder. "They said those things to throw us off. We're still going to find a way out of here. We still don't know for sure that they even have Daisy and the others – he could have been bluffing."

"Yeah, but they grabbed us in seconds," Mack said soberly. "They have to have the others."

"Unless they found a way to escape. As soon as Daisy and Yo-Yo regain consciousness, they'll use their powers."

"They must be keeping them unconscious then," Fitz speculated. "Drugged up perhaps – or they just keep using their new weapon on them."

* * *

Time passed slowly and uneventfully for the five agents.

Their cell had no visible air vent, and no amount of screaming, pounding on the walls, or other noise seemed to make a difference. If the rest of the team was indeed on board this ship, they didn't give any signs that they could hear them.

The water provided was slimy as promised, but as far as they could tell it was potable, so they drank it.

Despite the distress, the agents' appetites gradually returned. The Watchdogs held to their earlier promise and did not bring any food for their prisoners. Fitz heard and felt his stomach growl, and the sensation was unpleasant - although worries about Jemma occupied his mind far more than hunger. He tried to welcome the rumbling belly as a distraction.

Watchdogs periodically entered the area outside of the cell to hurl insults at the agents. More remarks were made about how friends of inhumans are as bad as inhumans themselves, and how the SHIELD agents were traitors to their species. The remarks were often topped off with a jab at Fitz's attire. The rest of the team had coached Deke right after the Watchdogs' first visit, and Deke no longer took the bait or responded in any way to the taunts.

And always there were the disturbing threats against the women. The threats grew less veiled, not that being subtle was ever a strength of their captors.

"At least their goals are obvious," Coulson said at one point. "They want us to do something and they plan to use the rest of the team as leverage."

"Did you notice that during their first visit," Fitz began, tilting his head, "they said they weren't going to feed us because they didn't need our brains until later? I didn't remember it at first because I was too disturbed by everything else they were saying."

Mack nodded. "I think the guy was looking at you, Fitz, when he said it."

"I saw that too," Coulson said, looking at Fitz. "Maybe they want you to build or make something."

"But what?" Deke asked, confused. "They have a fancy new weapon and they have a starship."

"Something they can't make here," Fitz concluded. "Because they've kept us here for….maybe 24 hours, although who knows how much time we were out? So they're taking us somewhere where they need us – or me – to do something."

The agents continued to speculate, and the Watchdogs periodically visited them to taunt, stare at, and attempt to intimidate them.

* * *

Fitz was sitting on the floor of the cell. His rear was sore from the cold, hard ground but his legs needed a rest from standing. He tugged at the hem of his kilt; there was no way to get comfortable inside the cell. Mack, Deke, and Davis were sleeping however, the latter snoring occasionally. Fitz knew that he himself had only slept intermittently.

"How are you holding up?" Coulson asked quietly.

"Okay," Fitz said. "Trying to practice some of the techniques we learned."

Coulson nodded. "You probably had plenty of time to practice them when you were in that black ops prison."

"Yeah," Fitz replied. He squeezed his eyes shut. "That time feels like a bad dream now."

"You got out of there, and we'll get out of here," Coulson insisted.

"Maybe Hunter's on his way in a spaceship he commandeered, right now," Fitz quipped, and both men chuckled.

They were silent for a few moments, and then Fitz took a breath. "There's something different this time though. We've all been held against our will at one time or another, but the Watchdogs are different."

"They're a hate group," Coulson stated.

"Yeah. They hate inhumans, and they hate us because they see us as the next-worst thing. Dealing with them is different than dealing with the enemies we've had before."

Coulson nodded. "Their hate made them stupid, and they used to be easy to beat. But now they have a starship and a new weapon. They've gotten sophisticated, and I'd like to know how."

Fitz turned his head and looked at Coulson. "So now you take their hatred plus their new sophistication, and with everything they've threatened to do…." he let his voice trail off.

"Their threats are just part of a mind game they're playing with us. For all we know they're going to leave us in here longer than they need to, just so they can continue making threats and trying to psyche us out. That's where we have to remember our training." Coulson paused. "Not that I have any doubts about your ability to do so. You've been through a lot, Fitz, and you're one of the strongest people I've ever worked with."

"Thank you, Sir," Fitz said. He wanted to relish the compliment, but worrying about Jemma still had his stomach in knots and waves of dread invaded his lungs with every breath.

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: The Accident**

Fitz woke with a jolt. He once again had drifted off, but then his tense body and active mind pushed him right back into the present.

"Easy, Turbo." Mack was sitting next to him. "You have a nightmare?" he asked quietly.

"Sort of," Fitz said, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. It looked like the others were asleep. "More like a very vivid dream."

"Tell me about it," Mack encouraged. Although the two men were friends, Mack had an additional reason for asking and Fitz had an additional reason for telling. Talking about dreams gave them something to take their minds off the constant boredom, hunger, and anxiety.

"Well this one was really special," Fitz said bitingly, "because the dream was full of stuff I didn't do. But the other Fitz did. Like I was dressed like…the marauder. Jemma was wearing blue and had gold paint on her face, and I couldn't get to her. I couldn't hear anything, and she couldn't either. We were at a dinner party filled with bizarre guests." He took a breath and rubbed at the sides of his stiff neck. "I know. Jemma told me everything I missed. It's damn strange that I'm having dreams about what the other guy did." He continued rubbing at his weary neck, and the engines continued with their persistent hum. "It apparently wasn't enough to just have dreams about The Doctor in the Framework."

"I have dreams about the Framework too," Mack said, looking down. "I see Hope all the time."

"I'm sorry, Mack," Fitz said, taking a glance at his friend. Everyone had suffered so much and could pick from an array of experiences to have nightmares over. "And I guess whatever's in store for us here could give us a whole new round of nightmares."

"True that. Though right now I feel like a hot meal and a shower would be so welcome that I'd never have a nightmare again!"

* * *

By the men's estimation, they had been inside the cell for almost three days. They tracked how many different Watchdogs had visited them, and they had counted 13 men so far.

The Watchdogs finally brought them food. It was a mound of scarcely edible oatmeal and was presented to them inside another bucket, but at least it would quiet the ravaging pains inside their stomachs.

"Put the bucket full of your piss inside the airlock," the Watchdog commanded them. "We should make one of you take it and dump it out, but you're not leaving this cell until it's time."

The second Watchdog scoffed, "What we really should do is take the bucket full of piss and dump it all over you. You deserve it for being a bunch of inhuman-lovers."

"Well, you're welcome to come on into the cell and try to do so," Coulson said.

It was not the first time that one of the agents had attempted to trick the Watchdogs, but what Coulson had said to Fitz earlier appeared true. The Watchdogs were smarter now than they had been before.

"Nice try," one of them said.

The other added, "Don't worry. When it's time for you to leave the cell, you're all going to be unconscious. And you won't like where you'll be when you wake up."

" **We'll** like it though," the other Watchdog said, his eyes blazing. "It will be fun. We've got it all planned out."

"Oh really?" Mack asked. "Tell us about it."

The Watchdog smiled and snorted, "Oh man, I wish I could! You're just going to have to wait and see."

The other Watchdog nudged him. "Maybe we can tell them a bit though. It'd be fun to see their reactions."

"No," the other replied. "You-know-who will kill us."

"You're right." He then added, "Well, it's time to take some food to your lady-friends. We offered yesterday to let them trade their clothes for food, but that didn't work. We'll see how today goes."

Fitz happened to be standing next to Deke, and without looking at his grandson, he knew to place a firm hand on Deke's arm. Fitz had to admit that Deke was doing exceptionally well as a new SHIELD agent, but he feared Deke might lash out. Plus, subtly reminding Deke to control himself helped ground Fitz and keep his own fury at bay. Fitz was drawing on every bit of training and every harrowing experience he had endured.

After the Watchdogs had left and the agents had divided up and eaten the oatmeal (no easy feat given their lack of any utensils or plates), they spoke.

"That was the second time that one of them implied that there's someone else behind this," Coulson observed.

"First time was more subtle but now they clearly said it," Mack said. He shook his head. "Glad to see that some things never change, and that they didn't suddenly become smart. They just have someone pulling their puppet strings." He paused and added, "Yes, my brother used to be a member but he renounced them long ago. Thank God."

"So someone wants our brainpower and teamed up with the Watchdogs to get it," Coulson observed.

"Every general needs foot soldiers," Fitz added. "The Watchdogs are just here for their brawn. And because they hate us, so they had extra incentive to capture us."

"We still need to know what their end-game is."

"And they still must be keeping Daisy and Yo-Yo unconscious," Mack added. "Otherwise Daisy would've quaked us out of here by now."

"Unless they have some technology to neutralize inhuman powers," Fitz said. "You told me the Kree had that in the future. Could whoever is working with the Watchdogs have a prototype now?"

"The Kree are so advanced though," Coulson said. He paused and added, "But maybe the Watchdogs do have a prototype and need us to refine it."

Mack shrugged. "I think that's the best theory yet. We have two brilliant scientists, two inhumans for them to test it on, and a group of people who are used to working with inhumans. We're the ideal group to help them with that weapon."

* * *

It happened within the span of a few seconds. One minute Fitz was pacing the cell (the agents took turns sitting so as to allow others more room to pace or do pushups), and within seconds chaos broke out. An alarm sounded and didn't stop, and the ship lurched abruptly. Fitz was knocked off of his feet. The alarm continued to blare and the ship swerved.

Within a few seconds, the lurching stopped but the blaring continued. The cell doors, however, remained firmly locked no matter how hard Mack and the others tried to pry them open.

Then the thud of boots on the ground could be heard, and four Watchdogs stepped outside the cell, followed by Anton Ivanov.

"Ivanov?" Coulson asked incredulously. Last the agents knew, Ivanov's brain was inside a jar somewhere and the LMD versions of Ivanov had been dispatched by Yo-Yo.

Ivanov held a weapon the agents didn't recognize. He pressed it, and for the first time since the wedding reception back at the inn, the overwhelming noise sounded, and the agents all lost consciousness just as they had before. Ivanov and the others wore protection to keep from succumbing to it.

Unbeknownst to Fitz and the others, the blast this time had been a deliberately mild one. Ivanov and the Watchdogs quickly placed handcuffs on the agents. "Hurry!" he barked. "We only have minutes!" The Watchdogs then carried or dragged the unconscious agents out of the cell.

When Fitz came to, he was inside a shuttle, lying on a heap on the floor with his four teammates. He noticed that he was the first of the agents to be regaining consciousness.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Where are we?"

One of the Watchdogs stood guard over the agents, gun trained on them.

"Inside shuttle," Ivanov replied. "Ship is falling apart and we're leaving."

"Let me fix it!" Fitz insisted, slowly rising to his feet despite the gun pointed at him. "We don't need to abandon ship!"

"Shut up!" Ivanov commanded. He pressed a few buttons on the console, and the shuttle rumbled. Its launch sequence began.

"Listen to Fitz!" Coulson was also regaining consciousness and trying to hoist himself up. "Ivanov, you have the best engineer on the planet here. Why abandon ship when he can repair it?"

"No time!" Ivanov bellowed, without a backwards glance.

"Sit down, both of you!" the Watchdog with the gun commanded. "We're launching in 10 seconds."

Fitz and Coulson were knocked over again as the shuttle took off. All five of the men had plenty of scrapes and cuts from the hasty way they had been dragged from the ship and dumped inside the shuttle. The lurching of the shuttle as it took off didn't help either. Fitz took a moment to reflect that it felt as if Mack had been tossed on top of him at one point. His back throbbed.

Despite dozens of aching muscles, Fitz again pulled himself into a sitting position so he could look out one of the shuttle's windows. Feeling the shuttle accelerate, he watched as the starship began to grow small. The shuttle continued its journey away from the large ship.

"What happened to the ship?" Fitz asked, this time his voice lower and even gentle. "A problem with the engines? Or life support maybe?"

Ivanov continued to ignore him, instead pressing buttons on the console. He was positioned too far away for Fitz to see the read-outs.

"Are you sure we don't have time to go back and fix it?" Fitz asked, again his voice more soft than demanding. "I can fix most any engine and do it quickly."

"I know. No time," Ivanov finally barked out. "And we are near our final destination anyway."

Coulson opened his mouth to speak again, when a bright light caught his attention. Fitz gasped as he looked out the window. The ship that they had just left appeared to be overtaken by an array of bright colors – and then it disappeared.

"What the hell happened?" Coulson asked. "Where's the ship?"

Fitz's heart pounded. He strained again to be able to catch a glimpse outside the window. Nothing. The ship they had just fled was gone.

"Is it cloaked?" Fitz asked.

"I wish," Ivanov grumbled. "The ship is gone."

"Ships generally don't just disappear," Coulson said. "Can you tell us what you mean by gone?"

The shuttle now on a steady trajectory, Ivanov stood up and walked towards the agents. Mack, Deke, and Davis were slowly regaining consciousness and pulling themselves into sitting positions. Deke groaned weakly. Watchdogs remained, guns ready, observing the agents.

"I will tell you everything, Mr. Coulson," Ivanov began slowly, his words deliberate and powerful. "Once we reach our destination. And – most importantly, once you help us. It is as simple as that. You help us, and we tell you what happened to the ship and how to get your teammates back."

"Did they leave the ship?" Fitz asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "Were they dragged out to a shuttle like we were?" He hadn't seen any other shuttles during all the time he'd looked out the window, but space was vast and shuttles small.

"No," Ivanov said after a beat. "The person we really need is here. I had to choose which group to take with me, and I chose you. But like I said, don't worry. You help me, and then I help you locate the ship and your teammates. We are almost at our destination." He paused and took a breath. "Now if you'll excuse me. I'm tired of your words and your questions, and I need to make sure I get this shuttle to where it needs to go."

Coulson opened his mouth, but Ivanov spoke again. "Don't make me duct tape your mouths. Just be quiet for now." A Watchdog stepped forward, and he indeed held a menacing roll of duct tape. Fitz looked at it and felt his stomach turn over.

"Here," Ivanov continued, opening a panel in the shuttle and reaching for items that made crinkling sounds. "A present." He tossed each agent a protein bar.

Coulson looked at his men and gave a slight nod. Their options, while handcuffed on a shuttle with armed Watchdogs practically glued to their sides, were limited. Now they would bide their time, observe, and find the right moment to get more information and escape. And they were weak from hunger; refusing the food wouldn't make any sense.

Fitz dropped his head down into his cuffed hands. His head pounded and his gut continued to lurch. What had happened to Jemma? The yearning he had felt so many times over the years overcame him, and he felt that he would do anything to see and hold her again.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: The Planet**

As Ivanov had suggested, the shuttle journey was brief; they were indeed close to their destination. In Fitz's eyes, only one other notable incident had occurred during the shuttle trip. One of the Watchdogs approached the spot where Fitz remained sitting on the floor with the other agents, and just started talking.

"Your wife's the one in the blue dress, right?" the Watchdog began.

Fitz used his training and just met the man's gaze. He didn't react at all, didn't flinch at the reference to the person who meant everything to him.

"She's pretty," the Watchdog continued. His tone and expression were matter-of-fact and casual. "But don't worry. We didn't touch her – or any of the others. Some of the other guys wanted to, but I helped make sure we didn't. We were perfect gentlemen."

The Watchdog continued to look only at Fitz as he spoke. "My name's John."

Fitz tried to keep his emotions in check. Was John telling the truth about the Watchdogs having kept their hands off of Jemma and the others, or did he just want a reaction? Why was he addressing Fitz and not the other agents? Why was he introducing himself, for that matter? Fitz remembered that not long ago, he had observed John speaking quietly with Ivanov.

Coulson apparently decided to try to get some information from John. "I'm surprised that Daisy didn't quake her way out of the cell," he said.

John turned his head towards Coulson, but then returned his gaze to Fitz as he replied. "We had a way to prevent that. We're not stupid enough to capture two inhumans without a way to contain them."

But apparently, Fitz said silently, you were stupid enough to completely lose control of your ship.

John then added, "We're just trying to make Earth safe for humans again, that's all."

"And you somehow want our help to do that," Coulson added. "This must be some elaborate plan you have, taking us all the way out here. Earlier it seemed like you planned to use Daisy and the others as leverage to get us to do something. That's going to be hard if they were on the ship." He paused and added, "The ship that has now disappeared."

John shrugged. "We still have our methods. Anyway, the boss doesn't like us chatting up the prisoners, so we should stop. I just wanted to talk to Fitz and tell him that his wife is pretty – and that we didn't touch her. That's all."

With that, John walked back to his seat.

* * *

The shuttle soon approached a planet and landed. Fitz looked out the window. A large dome covered a central building and several surrounding structures that looked like army barracks. Although his mental state was filled with misery and worry, his curiosity couldn't help but to wish he knew more about the planet. SHIELD had long since suspected that powerful foes had been establishing bases on hunks of rock, and that some of these planetoids had valuable raw materials. It was something SHIELD had always wanted to explore but had not had the resources or the time given the chaos on Earth they had been dealing with. If – no _when_ , he corrected himself – the agents took control of the situation, Fitz looked forward to seeing what they could learn about this place. He knew Jemma would've loved learning more about it.

The Watchdogs deduced, correctly, that if they wanted to keep any of their prisoners from escaping, they had to shackle their ankles as well. So Fitz and the others watched as the shackles were locked in place, which allowed them only the smallest of steps at a time. The Watchdogs escorted each prisoner, one at a time, out of the shuttle. They grabbed Deke first; he had looked the least steady since they had all been deposited into the shuttle. Deke stumbled and nearly fell as the Watchdogs pulled him to his feet. His guards ended up almost dragging him away.

"We're nice captors," John said, as he pulled Fitz to his feet next. "First thing we're going to do at the base is feed you."

John actually proved true to his word, leading Fitz to think that John and Ivanov must have agreed to play a game of "good cop/bad cop." Fitz and the others were brought to a mess hall. Their wrists and ankles remained chained, but they were seated at a table and given a hot meal. Five guards with guns stood over them the entire time. No utensils were provided, but the food was decent.

Fitz tried to give some of his portion to Mack. "You're a lot bigger than I am; you need more food," Fitz said. But Mack shook his head, and a guard barked "No talking!" at them. Fitz and the others silently took stock of their surroundings, but there was little of note. It was a poorly-lit mess hall with six tables, five armed guards, and an array of kitchen equipment behind a swinging door. One large window showed that the outside was pitch-black. The entire place reeked of despair and ugliness, but of course that wasn't a surprise. Fitz's lips almost curled upwards when he silently asked himself 'Were you expecting a resort in the Seychelles?'

Apparently either Ivanov or someone else on the base was a stickler for personal hygiene, because after dinner, each man was separately taken for a shower. Fitz would later learn that Mack and Davis had each – apparently now with their hunger almost sated and feeling stronger – attempted to take down their guards when they had been alone. But defeating an armed guard when your own wrists and ankles are shackled is a losing proposition. Deke, Coulson, and Fitz weren't in any condition to attempt an escape even if the odds had been better.

When it was Fitz's turn, he was marched into what looked – and smelled - like a locker room. It was an eyesore just like the bathroom in the black ops prison he'd been in, except larger. As a Watchdog kept a gun trained on Fitz, two other men stripped him. Anything they couldn't remove because of the cuffs, they simply cut off. One of the men was careless and nicked Fitz with the knife a couple of times.

"We're throwing your skirt away," the Watchdog guffawed when Fitz's kilt was removed.

Fitz again did not react. He rather liked the kilt, but he knew by now not to get attached to possessions. People, not possessions, he knew. He did hope they wouldn't take his wedding ring.

At one point during the bathing, the Watchdog appeared to look away. Fitz took a moment to observe the other two men. He didn't think they were Watchdogs. Although they looked as unkempt and angry as Watchdogs, something was different. They didn't wear the usual pseudo-military garb of the Watchdogs, for one thing. And their body language towards the Watchdog was almost deferential.

"Are you a Watchdog?" Fitz asked the man closest to him.

The man replied, "No English." With those two words, Fitz guessed that the man was perhaps Russian or from another Eastern-European country.

"Shut up, both of you!" the Watchdog commanded. He then smiled and took a step towards Fitz. "Pretty boy," he added, and slapped Fitz's rear end.

Fitz felt bile rise in his throat, and decided to be quiet in the hopes that the Watchdog would go back to ignoring him. He forced himself to take a breath. He knew his mind was about to start spiraling, thinking of Jemma. Where was she? What had happened to the ship? That Watchdog John had better have been right when he'd said that no one touched her, because if anyone did to her what that guard had just done to him, Fitz knew he would fly into a rage. John had no reason to have been telling the truth, especially if his end game was just to play good cop/bad cop.

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the present. Worrying about Jemma was only going to kill him, he knew. He thought of his six months in the black ops prison. One second at a time, one minute at a time, and keep the end goal in mind. That was how he had survived being locked up then, and that's how he would survive it now. At least this time he had half of the team with him.

* * *

"Well now. Let's talk business," Ivanov said, a slight smile on his face.

With meals and showers completed, Fitz was now seated inside a small room with Coulson and Deke. Ivanov stood over them, as did three armed Watchdogs, including John. The agents had been dressed in orange prisoner grab, and shackles had again been placed on their wrists and ankles. Ivanov was clearly not taking any chances.

"Where are Mack and Davis?" Coulson asked.

"They made foolish mistakes," Ivanov said simply. He tilted his head. "Trying to take down an armed guard when you have cuffs on wrists and ankles is not a great strategy. We knew feeding you was a risk. We had to beat them. Each is now inside a cell, alone. But otherwise unharmed."

"Unharmed other than a beating," Deke said bitterly.

Coulson shot Deke a look, but Fitz recognized that his grandson was likely at wit's end. As much as Deke irritated him, Fitz tried to feel empathy for him. Deke had spent his whole life in Kree hell in space, then spent a few months enjoying fresh air and the outdoors on Earth, and now apparently had come full circle again.

"So, let's get down to business and talk about why we brought you here," Ivanov began.

"Sure," Coulson said. "But we don't talk until you tell us everything you know about the rest of our team. What happened to that ship and where are they?"

Ivanov was quiet only for a moment. He clearly had foreseen Coulson's demand. "I will tell you what I know," he said. And with that he explained that the engines blew, and unfortunately the ship had been near a wormhole when it happened. They knew that the ship hadn't been new or in the best condition, but they hadn't foreseen the engines collapsing at a pivotal moment. "Good engineers are hard to find," he said looking at Fitz.

"Especially in hate groups I'd guess," Deke said.

Ivanov let Deke's comment go, as Coulson and Fitz tried to digest the news.

"So, the ship got pulled into a wormhole?" Fitz screeched. "With its engines shot." He shook his head. "Jemma and I really are cursed." Only Fitz's training and willpower kept him from erupting further.

"How sure are you that the rest of our team was still on the ship and not taken away in a shuttle?" Coulson asked Ivanov.

"Very sure," Ivanov replied. "All of this started to go wrong in just the span of minutes. My only thought was to get Fitz since he's the main reason we took you. I'm the only one who can open the shuttle bay anyway."

"So, Daisy and the others are on a ship with a busted engine, a ship which just went through a wormhole. And how many Watchdogs are with them?" Coulson asked.

"A dozen or so."

"If they're smart," Fitz began, "they'll get Simmons out of the cell and into the engine room. Engineering isn't her specialty, but she's undoubtedly a better engineer than whoever your engineer is."

Fitz tried to keep his voice steady and avoid displaying the rage and despair he felt, but Coulson saw the slight shake in his hands. Coulson also silently added that May could certainly fly the ship, once it got operational again. They just had to hope that the ship remained in one piece as it got through the wormhole. And that the wormhole was open on both ends, so they could get right back. And that the Watchdogs still on the ship were desperate enough to let May and the others do what they needed to get the ship under control, and didn't try to harm them any further. Yeah, Coulson said to himself, that was a lot of hoping.

Ivanov only shrugged at Fitz's comment. Coulson then spoke, "Can we talk about how you're still alive? Because last we saw you, Aida had put your brain in a jar and you were an LMD. Or multiple LMDs."

"That is something you don't need to know," Ivanov stated.

"Okay," Coulson said. "So, let's talk about Fitz then. You said he's the main reason you brought us here?"

"Yes," Ivanov said. He leaned forward and seemed to be perking up. He looked at Fitz. "There are two projects that we need you to finish. One of them you've already encountered: our new weapon. It's a thing of beauty, how it knocked all of you out. But to make Earth safe again, we need it to be fixed so that it only harms inhumans – and that it leaves regular humans alone. This planet is filled with the raw materials we use to construct the weapon – and we brought cheap labor here too. We have a full lab. We just need someone to fix the weapon so that it doesn't harm regular humans."

Ivanov paused and continued. "We also have a prototype for blocking inhuman powers. But the device weighs 90 kilograms and is this big," he said, gesturing with his arms. "We need you to make it portable and easy."

Fitz was silent for a moment or two. He tilted his head down to rest on his fingertips before looking up at Ivanov again. How could Ivanov and the Watchdogs not have realized that both Fitz and Simmons would be needed for both of these projects? What Ivanov said they needed had as much to do with biochemistry as it did with engineering. Fitz wondered if it was plain, simple sexism that had led their enemies to completely discount the crucial role Simmons would need to play. Fitz let out an exasperated chuckle.

"Too bad we don't have our biochemist here then!" Fitz exclaimed. "What you're talking about involves not just engineering but also _biochemistry_ ," he said passionately and angrily. "All you had to do was bring Simmons and the others here too!"

Ivanov openly scoffed. "Simmons. She's beautiful, yes, but I've never met a woman who knew the first thing about designing weapons."

"Unbelievable!" Deke exclaimed. "God, Ivanov, you're so stupid! And sexist. You should've grabbed Simmons and all the others before you just ran."

Ivanov shook his head. "We had to get off that ship! I thought it might blow up. And we had limited room inside the shuttle. Fitz was our first priority. It would have been nice to grab the others but –" he paused and spoke slowly "- there are other ways to make you cooperate. Your female team members aren't the only leverage we have over you. Though it is quite adorable how much you love them, and it would have been far more fun if they were here," he added with a sick grin on his face.

And then he walked up to Deke and said, "And **you** need to just shut your mouth." Ivanov nodded at a Watchdog, and the grinning Watchdog then cut off a piece of duct tape and placed it over Deke's mouth.

Fitz glanced at his grandson. He shared his rage. Deke's eyes bulged but he seemed to be making an effort to calm himself as the duct tape was placed over his mouth. Fitz watched to make sure the clumsy Watchdog left Deke's nose uncovered.

"Now then," Ivanov said. "Let's talk about getting you to work. We don't have your lovely ladies here, but we do have five of you. And I know that you are all close enough that you won't enjoy seeing the others tortured. So, let's get started on fixing the weapon and the inhibitor."

Coulson and Fitz exchanged a look.

"Never," Fitz said. "We are never helping you."

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: The Women**

 _Setting_ : Approximately seven hours before the events of the previous chapter.

"You can't say we don't treat ladies well. This is more food than we've given your male teammates," the Watchdog said as one of his colleagues placed a tray inside the airlock.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We're supposed to be grateful for this crap?" Daisy replied flatly. She wanted to add that more food hardly made up for having spent the last three days listening to vile comments and threats from Watchdogs – but she knew to keep that part quiet. The enemy doesn't need to know if they are getting to you.

In addition to receiving more food, there was one other difference between the female agents' cell and that of their male counterparts. A large device – about the size of two men – sat outside their cell. It constantly pulsed and emitted noises. Not only did it make all five agents lethargic, but it also neutralized Daisy and Yo-Yo's powers.

Simmons hung back and watched as Daisy made her verbal jab. On the rare occasions the agents responded to the Watchdogs, Daisy was the one who did so. Mack might now be officially Coulson's second-in-command instead of Daisy, but everyone recognized that Daisy's leadership potential was still a force.

Although Jemma's mouth might have been quiet, her mind certainly was not. Just as Fitz had, she too had recognized the particular hum of the engines in the background and knew it meant they were on a starship. Just as with Fitz and the others, she was baffled as to why and how Watchdogs had captured them and were bringing them into space. And she wished she could take apart the device that sat outside their cell.

Jemma had said to the others at one point, "If their goal is to spew hatred and harassment at inhumans, then they have to get rid of us eventually. SHIELD is the best protector that inhumans have now. But why not finish us off when they first captured us – why take us into space?"

The agents had had plenty of time to bandy about different theories. If the Watchdogs had wanted SHIELD's help to refine the device parked in front of their cell – the one that apparently neutralized inhuman powers –there was no need to bring the agents into space. Where had the Watchdogs even gotten a starship from - or the brains to operate it?

Jemma turned these ideas over and over, both silently in her mind and aloud with her teammates. She desperately wished Fitz were here. She needed her collaborator, her other half. She wanted his brainpower, and more importantly, wanted his arms around her. Jemma silently praised herself for her independence and ability to comfort herself. She certainly had had many nights to practice. The hopeful but nerve-racking weeks in space as they searched for Fitz. His (thankfully short) time in lock-up after The Doctor persona had taken over. The silent prison that Kassius had placed her in while she didn't know where Fitz was. Jemma inwardly snorted as she reminded herself 'and those are just the recent ones!'

Yes, she had become used to grasping the pillow, folding her body against it, and pretending it was Fitz. She certainly would've appreciated having even a pillow in this bare, cold cell.

Today, the agents remained silent other than Daisy's retort, as they divided up the food. Three Watchdogs stood outside their cell and observed them.

"Remember what we said earlier," one of the Watchdogs piped up, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah," another one said, nudging the first and leaning forward. They went on to make lewd and sickening remarks and gestures at the agents.

May shot Daisy a warning look. She knew when her surrogate daughter was approaching the "all out of fucks to give" stage. Between the confinement, the lack of sufficient food, the device outside their cell, and the Watchdogs' ongoing harassment, Daisy's patience appeared to be at its limits.

"Alright," Daisy said, launching her hands into the air as she walked towards the front of the cell. "Let's do this. If any of you want me, you can have me."

May, Simmons, Yo-Yo, and Piper exchanged glances as they watched Daisy.

"I haven't showered in three days," Daisy continued, "and there's stubble all over my armpits. But I'm ready to party, if you are."

Yo-Yo took a few steps to join Daisy. "Me too. It's a secret that few know about, but we inhuman women are insatiable!"

Two of the Watchdogs exchanged excited glances while the third one smacked their arms. "Don't listen to them," he said. "The big guy told us a hundred times that they'll try anything to get us to open the cell."

"Aww, come on," another Watchdog said. "This ship is so boring. And we got that device right outside of their cell. It makes them tired and they can't use their powers. I say we have some fun with them. One of us can keep his gun on them at all times while the rest of us..."

"No, you idiot –" the other Watchdog responded, and then was cut off. The ship lurched suddenly just as the red alert siren began wailing. The ship continued to swerve.

All three Watchdogs began shouting at once, panicked and unsure what to do. After much yelling and many expletives, they remembered that when red alert sounded, the protocol was to return to your station unless told otherwise. Two of the Watchdogs were truly supposed to be stationed outside of the cell; the third one scrambled to his station in engineering.

"What's going on?" Daisy shouted, but the Watchdogs didn't answer. It was fairly clear that they had no idea.

The ship continued to careen, and the lights flickered on and off. And then it happened. The inhibitor device outside of their cell – it flickered as well. The noise it emitted stopped for about three seconds, before its power was restored.

But those three seconds were all that Daisy needed. She raised her hands up and quaked the doors of the cell down. Unbeknownst to Jemma and the others, this happened almost simultaneous to the launch of the cell containing Fitz and the other male agents.

The agents' next moves unfolded quickly. They made short work of their two guards, and grabbed their weapons. They decided to head for the bridge. Any Watchdogs they encountered on the way there were quickly dispatched; none stood a chance against Daisy and Yo-Yo with their powers, or May and Piper ready for combat and holding guns. Jemma brought up the rear as they rushed to the bridge.

Once they took over the bridge, they quickly deduced that engineering would need to be their next stop; Jemma was unable to contain the engine malfunction from the controls on the bridge. The bridge's sensors also told them where on the ship all the remaining Watchdogs were – so that they too could be overtaken and restrained. The agents soon realized that a shuttle had been launched and that their male teammates had to have been on that shuttle.

Just as the remaining Watchdogs were dealt with and May was getting ready to escort Jemma to engineering, Daisy gasped when new alarms began to blare on the bridge.

"A wormhole?! You have got to be kidding me."

Seconds later, the ship was unceremoniously and immediately sucked into the wormhole.

* * *

Ivanov stood up and exited the room, leaving Fitz, Coulson, and Deke exactly as they had been – wrists and ankles still shackled and Deke's mouth duct taped. Out of sight of the agents, or any of the planet's staff, Ivanov paced the corridor.

He had expected that Fitz would refuse to help. He had not planned on being told that Simmons was crucial to both projects, but he suspected that Fitz had been telling the truth and not just trying to stall. Ivanov was furious at himself for that miscalculation.

And equally bad, not having any of the female agents here would make it far harder to coerce Fitz into complying. Ivanov had planned on torturing Daisy and May to get Coulson to order Fitz to do the work - if torturing Simmons wasn't motivation enough. Plus, there was Mack's love for Yo-Yo; that was another lever that could have been pulled. These SHIELD men were weak, lovesick fools, really.

Ivanov would now also have to deal with the fact that many of the Watchdogs enjoyed torturing women and no doubt were simmering with rage at the realization that there were no women here, and there would not be for some time.

He took another breath as he continued to pace. He reviewed the information he did have and mined for what he could exploit. Coulson was a father-figure to Fitz, and Mack was like a big brother. Fitz obviously cared about both of them. Davis hadn't spent as much time with the rest of the team; the others seemed to like and respect him, but didn't feel familial bonds for him. Davis was more like a distant cousin, Ivanov decided.

Deke was a bit harder to place, and Ivanov didn't have much intel on him; he obviously was a newer agent. But Ivanov deduced that Fitz and Deke were also akin to brothers, though Fitz treated Deke as something of an annoyance. There was affection there too though; perhaps in this relationship Fitz was like the elder brother. Ivanov snorted as he thought of it. Damn these foolish agents and their pretend family. Ivanov had never had one, blood-related or otherwise.

In any case, the bonds that Fitz had with Coulson, Mack, and the others wouldn't compare with what he felt for Simmons. Obviously. It was the same situation with what Coulson felt for May and Daisy – Coulson's bonds with the rest of the team didn't share that intensity. And of course, Ivanov knew, men were far stronger than women, so they would stand up to torture better. They didn't break down and show weakness and pain the way that women did. It might take a long time to get Fitz to do anything without Simmons there as motivation.

Ivanov's mind turned over scenarios and plans. What exact methods should he use to torture Coulson, Mack, and Deke to obtain Fitz's compliance? Would Fitz be able to complete both projects without a biochemist? Would Ivanov's people get bored, especially now that the women he had promised them were marooned on a ship with busted engines that had disappeared through a wormhole? That same ship was also supposed to restock the base; how long could he keep the base running without the expected supplies?

Ivanov was determined to rid the planet of inhumans and to take control. Every person had his breaking point. Sooner or later, Fitz would have to go along with what Ivanov needed.

* * *

Fitz sat inside his cell and collected his thoughts. On the positive side, they had removed both sets of cuffs, and this cell had an actual bed and sink. It had felt like an eternity since he had sat on a surface that had springs, that wasn't a hard floor or bench. On the negative side, he was alone and not within eyesight or earshot of the others. Ivanov was smart to separate them now.

Ivanov's plan at this point, Fitz surmised, was to force the agents to wait it out. To let their minds wander and worry about what means of torture Ivanov would come up with. And he probably planned to deprive them of food again too, to make them more pliable.

Fitz couldn't decide if he was happy that Jemma wasn't here or not. They couldn't torture her if she wasn't here, and that was a blessing. But he had no idea where Jemma was. The ship went through a wormhole? Fitz cursed the fact that they had spent the last few years only dealing with crisis after crisis, and not staying up on the latest in space travel or astrophysics. What were the odds that the wormhole was open on both ends? At least, Fitz told himself wryly, that despite being a bit sick of space, Jemma likely would've been intrigued by space travel too. Of course, that assumed that Jemma and the others found a way out of their cell. Fitz had to hope that a dozen panicked and leader-less Watchdogs could have been overtaken or tricked.

He took a breath and tried to prevent his mind from spiraling. At least he had plenty of practice doing so; during his time in the black ops prison, he'd had to employ every mental exercise ever taught by SHIELD to keep from falling into a pit of mental despair. Fitz thought, instead, of his last private conversation with Jemma. It was back at the inn, upstairs inside their room, before they headed down the grand staircase to the reception. He remembered that they had talked about his kilt. He had been piqued at how much Jemma had loved it, and how she had made comments about wanting to lift it up after the ceremony. He had to stop that line of thought; this wasn't the black ops prison where he could get under the blankets and 'take care of business' fairly certain that no one would walk in for hours. He had no idea what to expect here.

He instead turned his mind to the toast that Coulson had been about to give at the reception. He would like to hear it someday.

Fitz thought back to the inn in Perthshire. How he and Jemma had loved the place so much, how it had become a peaceful refuge where they could discuss what they had lived through and forge a pathway forward. And all the delicious food they had eaten there! But thoughts of the inn brought to mind the innkeeper, Marcas, who it appeared had given information to the Watchdogs. He likely had been coerced, threatened, and had no idea how to fight off that sort of thing.

Fitz sighed. He had liked Marcas, but it appeared he could just add that to one more on his list of betrayals – although at least in the constellation of betrayals it was a small one. It paled compared to 'big brother' Ward. And Radcliffe. Fitz tried to shrug it off. Who needed Ward when you had Mack as a big brother? And Coulson was clearly the best father-figure Fitz would ever have, and the team was lucky Coulson was alive. Even Daisy seemed like she had mostly forgiven him for what he – well, _the other he_ – had done.

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps. Two Watchdogs approached with Ivanov. "Okay, rest time is over. You will work!" Ivanov bellowed.

Fitz was quickly shackled and marched to the lab.

 **The final chapter will be posted soon!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: The Family**

Coulson and Deke were already inside the lab, with cuffs again placed on their wrists and ankles. Each was strapped to a chair, and there was no doubt what would happen next. Fleetingly, Fitz wondered how Ivanov had selected these two to start with. Several Watchdogs stood inside the lab as well; Fitz had almost stopped noticing armed Watchdogs given how ubiquitous they now were in his life.

Fitz also took note of the lab itself. It was clearly the most modern room inside this base; it hummed with a variety of equipment. It was bright, in contrast to the dim lighting inside every other room he had seen here. In completely different circumstances, Fitz would have loved to begin tinkering and building. But here, his stomach turned over with dread. SHIELD agents knew how to resist pain and endure torture. Deke might be a very new – unofficial – agent but he had definitely lived through a lot in the Lighthouse. Still, Fitz knew that he, Coulson, and Deke were in for a harrowing, grueling experience. He tried to mentally steel himself.

"Now then," Ivanov began, looking at Fitz. He had a slight smile on his face. "I hope you've had time to reflect on what we want from you. True, your biochemist wife isn't here but I suspect that you have enough expertise to refine these weapons anyway. I am willing to bet that your work has overlapped with hers enough over the years." He cleared his throat and looked at Coulson and Deke. "So – who should I start with?"

At that point, the building began to shake. Shouts could be heard down the hall, and then gunshot fire. Ivanov gestured at two of the Watchdogs to head outside and investigate.

More shots were fired, and the sounds of men barking orders to each other could be heard. The building shook again. Fitz exchanged a look with Coulson. Either they were on a planet prone to earthquakes or…..

At that moment, the door to the lab flung open and Daisy and May charged in. Daisy fired a quake at Ivanov which sent him reeling back against the wall. May rushed to finish him off. She and Daisy then worked to free Coulson and Deke of their restraints.

"The others?" Fitz breathed, somewhere between relief and elation. "Jemma?"

"They're all fine," May said, slicing off the restraints that held Coulson to the chair. "Simmons is back on our ship. Yo-Yo and Piper are securing the rest of this facility."

"Where are Mack and Davis?" Daisy asked.

"We don't know," Coulson said, rising from the chair and rubbing his wrists. "Other than that they're somewhere on this base."

"We'll find them," May said. She handed the three men various weapons which she had retrieved from fallen Watchdogs.

The next several moments passed in a whirlwind for Fitz. The agents secured the base, restraining or immobilizing any resistance they encountered. They eventually found Mack and Davis's cells. The two men had been badly beaten for their escape attempts, but were at least in stable condition. Mack said he could walk; Davis would need some assistance.

"Let's get them to our ship and get them taken care of," Daisy said. Coulson couldn't resist a smile at her words. _Our_ ship.

"I knew you'd take it over," Coulson said. "You –"

Jemma's voice rang out over comms, interrupting Coulson. "Team, we have a problem!" she said.

"What is it?" Coulson asked.

"It's a UN starship entering the planet's atmosphere. They're sending a message, wait for it." After a moment, Jemma said, "They're stating that we are terrorists and telling us to surrender."

"You sure they're not directing that message at Ivanov and the Watchdogs?" Coulson asked, feeling fairly certain of the answer.

"It's specifically addressed to SHIELD agents," Jemma said. She sighed and added, "Why am I not surprised?"

Despite the chaos, Fitz couldn't help but to grin. That was his Jemma. And at the helm of a starship no less!

"Let's go then!" Coulson said. "Please tell me you have a shuttle waiting for us, and it's fully operational."

"Of course," May answered. Her voice was flat but her eyes sparkled. She and Coulson had taken a couple of seconds to embrace as Jemma had spoken.

"This way," Daisy said, leading the group. Deke and Yo-Yo grabbed Davis and helped him keep up with the others. In a matter of minutes, the team piled into the shuttle and took off for the ship.

* * *

The shuttle docked in the bay. The group split – some assisting Davis and Mack to the infirmary while others headed for the bridge. Fitz considered it for a second, knew that Jemma would leave the bridge for sickbay to take care of the injured, and so decided to make his way there. Mack was much more mobile than Davis and he almost smirked at Fitz's offer of help, but it was a friendly rebuke; he knew exactly why Fitz had elected to go to the infirmary.

And as soon as Coulson and the others had reached the bridge and took control from Jemma, Jemma rushed to sickbay. Yo-Yo was there too, to be with Mack.

Both Fitz and Simmons knew that their first priority was to tend to Davis's and Mack's injuries, and that any other sort of reunion would have to wait. Still they allowed themselves a brief embrace before getting right down to business. Fitz enjoyed the glorious three seconds in which he wrapped his arms around her and stroked the back of her head. It was the paradise he had been denied for too long.

Simmons then tended to the wounded, with Fitz and Yo-Yo assisting. As they worked, Fitz couldn't help but smile as he took note of Jemma's attire. The blue dress and low heels she had been wearing were understandably gone. The ship was freezing and her wedding reception garments couldn't have been that comfortable. Clothing options on board the ship had to have been limited though, as Jemma was now clad in what was clearly some cast-off Watchdog attire including boots. All of it was too large for her. Briefly she caught his eye at one point and smirked, "I know. I hate it too, but the dress wasn't quite right. And this isn't Star Trek where we can just replicate new clothing."

Fitz returned her grin. "Well, I'm wearing prison attire – again – so I can hardly judge." The couple shared a laugh. He thought fleetingly of all the times they had been separated, all the times she had been taken from him. The agony of the first monolith, when all he could do was try to determine what the monolith was and hope that she was somehow still alive. When she and the others were grabbed out of the diner by Enoch. Or even all the way back to the time she jumped out of the bus, infected with the Chitauri virus. Their lives had been so different back then, and yet some things didn't change. They clearly were not cursed because they always ended up back together.

When Davis and Mack were patched up, the team reassembled on the bridge. Coulson and Daisy briefed everyone by saying that they appeared to have successfully evaded the UN ship. But now the authorities knew where they were and would likely continue their pursuit. There was a good chance the UN would send a second starship to take them down. The team didn't like those odds.

"And yes, let's appreciate the irony here – they're after us instead of Ivanov's hell down on that planet," Daisy added.

"So, people in the past are clearly as insane as people in the future," Deke remarked.

"What do we do?" Piper asked.

"There's one more thing," Daisy said, looking at Coulson. "We saw something on the other side of the wormhole. Something that made us think we should return."

"And the wormhole is open," Jemma added. "It's stable."

"And we can hide from our enemies. On the other side," May added.

Daisy and the others went on to explain what they had seen and why they thought it was a good hiding place. If nothing else, Coulson said, it would give them time to strategize and plan their next steps.

* * *

Not long afterwards, FitzSimmons had what they had dreamed of for so long: private time together. The personnel quarters on board this ship were nothing spectacular: sparse rooms containing a bed, a desk and chair, overhead storage space, and a tiny bathroom.

There was, however, a window.

The couple stood in front of it silently for several long moments, holding hands and looking at the stars. A different array of constellations now that they were so far from home. The view was vast, infinite, awesome.

"Remember when we used to go star-gazing?" Jemma finally murmured.

"I do," Fitz said. He then shook his head. "You're right that we were different people then. Sometimes I can't believe that Leo Fitz didn't see what was right in front of him."

Jemma released his hand and rubbed his back. "It's okay. The old Jemma Simmons didn't either. But at least we knew we would have plenty of adventures together."

"We got that right." Fitz could only smile with bemusement. "We didn't think that we'd be on a starship light years away from earth, classified as terrorists, and heading off towards something that would look right at home on _Star Trek_."

"Which version of _Star Trek_?" Jemma wondered, her eyebrows raised. "Although I truly don't like any of them better than _Doctor Who._ "

"I don't know. _Next Gen_ is dated but there was something special about it."

"Hmmmm," Jemma began. "This could evolve into a spirited debate. And that would get me _quite_ excited." She turned her head towards the bed and raised her eyebrows.

"But – " Fitz stammered. "The reception."

It was "take two" for the reception. This time, of course, it would be on the starship. Jemma had explored the ship's mess hall and although the food supplies wouldn't rival anything that the Perthshire inn could provide, she had determined there was enough there for her to make a reasonable facsimile of The Sandwich. And there was plenty of booze. They looked forward to celebrating with their family; it was even rumored that Deke had a surprise ready.

"We have time," Jemma promised. "Plus, it might be fun to show up at the reception with our faces flushed. You often turn a delightful shade of pink when…."

The reception would have to wait. Fitz and Simmons reached for each other's lips.

 **THE END**

Possible sequel to follow


End file.
